


Bite Me

by Rubicksmaster



Series: Harry Potter and the Year We Question Our Sexuality [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-10-16 02:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17540711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubicksmaster/pseuds/Rubicksmaster
Summary: Draco has despised everything about Potter for years. The messy hair, the annoying fanbase, the effortless ability to win over teachers, the pure Gryffindor he reeked of, his beautiful eyes...





	1. You Beautiful Idiot

“And then he scoffed at me! Scoffed! Who does he think he is?”

Pansy stroked his hair and he frowned. He could guess that she was bored of his favorite conversation topic and, in all honesty, he was too. Yet here they were; he was laying on one of the common room couches with his head on her lap to vent about Potter’s existence. It was well into the morning, allowing them privacy that was rarely found in the Slytherin common room.   
When they first arrived at Hogwarts, Draco and Pansy held each other at an arm’s distance, only interested in what they could gain from each other. Somewhere down the line Pansy had transcended all else to be something he sorely needed: a friend. Now he was scaring her off. “He thinks he’s Dumbledore’s golden boy,” Pansy said, sounding rather bored. 

“He is,” Draco replied. “It’s so unfair.”

“Completely unfair.”

“He’s not even talented. If it was Mudblood Granger, at least he’d have a reason to like her.”

“She’s just a stuck up brat,” Pansy said, her face turning sour. “Anyone can memorize a textbook.”

Draco nodded, although he only succeeded in mussing up the back of his hair on Pansy’s skirt. “I agree, Pans. But Potter can’t even do that. He’s an imbecile!” Pansy hummed in agreement. “And he has a dumb face, with his dumb scar. Who would think a scar is cool? You could get a scar from falling down stairs or some other stupid reason. What if his hot scar is from stairs, huh? What then, Potter?”

“Nobody would think it was special.”

“Exactly. Not so special now, Potter. Can’t even walk up and down stairs properly. What an idiot.”

“Alright, you’re really focused on his scar, Draco.”

“Right. Ignore that.” He let out a soft exhale as Pansy gently pulled back the hair falling onto his forehead. “He’s got an annoying voice.”

“Thank Merlin he doesn’t speak up in class as much as Granger.”

Draco let out a sharp laugh. “My ears would bleed! Ugh, and his face. He’s hideous. He’s all gaunt-y and gross and his eyes are too green and pretty-”

“Pretty?”

“Puke-y,” Draco said, entirely on autopilot. “It was a slip up.”

There was a horrifying moment where Pansy looked directly in his eyes, almost as if to silently communicate that she knew it was bullshit and would call him out on it, but she leaned back again and said. “Alright. Puke-y eyes, I guess.”

Draco blushed and sat up. “I have to get started on my potions essay.”

“You finished it already,” Pansy replied, looking at her perfectly filed nails. “What’s going on with you, Draco?”

“Nothing.” She looked up from her nails into Draco’s eyes and he repeated, “Nothing! I’m tired, okay? I’ll just head to bed.”

“Hey, maybe you’re in love with Potter.”

Draco’s face blanched, and he turned to face Pansy, trying his best to hide any of the obvious fear on his face. He wanted her to start laughing at the absurdity of Draco having any feelings other than loathing for the Gryffindor prat. Instead, her face was still, as if she was trying her best to stay neutral and allow for Draco’s assumptions to bounce right off of her and back to him. “Good night, Pansy,” he said, his voice suddenly dry.

“Good night.” He tiptoed into his dorm, where Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Blaise all slept. He closed the door as quietly as he could and crawled into his bed, distracted by the concept of having feelings for Potter.

In the dark and quiet the dungeon always provided, it was easier for intrusive thoughts to worm their way into his head. Was Potter stupid? Yes. That much was objective. Was the hero worship of him ridiculous and annoying. Yes. It was, once again, objective. Was he ugly. Yes. No. Yes. His eyes were beautiful, and his thin face had an almost innocent type of beauty to it.

Draco shoved his face into his pillow. This was awful. He had to get Potter’s stupid face out of his head. His thoughts wandered to Quidditch, which was generally a horrible experience thanks to the crippling feelings of self-doubt that came from losing a game he had been playing since he could ride a broom to a brat who picked it up for the first time but two years prior. But Harry was an athlete by nature; he was lithe and quick and likely somewhat strong, strong enough to make Draco wonder about certain things he would rather not think about.

It wasn’t so much that Draco liked boys. It was that the boy he liked was Harry freaking Potter. The only way he could do worse was by falling for a Weasley. 

 

If he could ignore it, maybe it would go away. All he had to do was block him out for Care of Magical Creatures and Double Potions. That would likely be difficult, though; Hagrid (Professor Hagrid, Draco corrected sarcastically) worshipped Potter nearly as much as Dumbledore did, and Potter was too much of a dolt to get through a Potions class without drawing attention to himself.

He was doomed. And, as horrifying as it was to believe that anyone had picked up on his obsession with Potter, Pansy knew it. 

With that not exactly comfortable thought, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: It Didn't Even Leave a Mark

He couldn’t stomach much at breakfast. Pansy sat beside him and didn’t bring up anything from their conversation, which was good considering he was sitting with Crabbe and Goyle. He looked over a Potions essay as he twirled his fork in his fingers. “Check out the paper,” Pansy said, handing him the copy of the Daily Prophet she had been reading.

Draco read the article she pointed out. “Another Sirius Black sighting.”

Crabbe almost dropped his fork. “Where is he?”

“According to Mary, hiding in her basement.” Pansy grinned and took her paper back. “It’s all bull. I doubt Black is anywhere but Hogsmeade.”

“How’s he avoiding the dementors?” Goyle asked.

“Same way he got out,” Pansy replied. She got up and nudged Draco, not unkindly. “I’m going to find Daphne. I don’t need my quota for stupidity being filled so early in the day.”

“See you in Potions,” he replied as Crabbe and Goyle looked between them, trying to find out how they could possibly fill a quote for stupid (or, more likely, what quota meant). 

“I hope he gets in,” Goyle said. “Maybe he’ll finish the job on Potter.” Draco looked up at him and Crabbe. Death was less of a foreign concept when you were surrounded by ghosts, but he could hardly imagine someone their age being killed. He wasn’t sure he would want any of the kids are Hogwarts dead, even if it was Potter and his crew. He believed Crabbe and Goyle felt the same, though it was impossible to ignore the odd gleam in Crabbe’s eye.

Quietly, Draco said, “Do you think the You-Know-Who is really coming back?” Crabbe and Goyle shrugged in unison, and Draco was reminded that it was doubtful they thought much of anything about anything. As usual, Draco was left to ponder this on his own. Every year something had happened. Quirrel had been trying to bring He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named back, then the Mudbloods had been attacked. Both instances had the Dark Lord appear in one way or the other. 

He had asked his father about Black as soon as news came out that he broke out. All he knew was that Black was a double-agent, so deeply involved that he, someone in the Dark Lord’s inner circle, had never even known he was a Death Eater. He didn’t know if he was acting out some plan to revive him. Draco got the feeling he wasn’t excited about that outcome.

Draco stared at the entrance. Kids shuffled in tiredly, and a bushy mane of hair caught his eye. He scowled. If Granger was here, it wouldn’t take long for Potter and Weasley to follow. What a pain. Sure enough, the three were together, Potter between them. Him and his stupid messy hair, which barely hid his stupid scar and beautiful eyes.

For the love of Merlin. 

Draco abruptly stood up, and Goyle asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to have some fun.” He straightened his robes and ran a hand through his hair, making sure it was neat, as Crabbe and Goyle stood up.

Potter noticed him before he reached the Gryffindor table and frowned. He nudged Weasley and Granger, directing their attention to him. “What do you want?” He asked.

Draco eyed them all now that he was closer. It looked like Weasley and Potter rolled out of bed in their robes for how rumpled they were. Draco doubted Potter ever attempted to comb his hair, and it was hard to tell if Weasley’s face was covered in acne, freckles, or both. He’d give it to Granger, her clothes were tidy, but her hair gave him the distinct impression she had been struck by lightning, and the bucked teeth made her look like a mouse. “Read the news lately, Potter? Or do you rely on Granger to read it to you?”

“Might wanna ask the idiots next to you about literacy,” Weasley quipped. Flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, Draco felt both of them tense up, and he felt mildly impressed that they knew what literacy meant. 

“At least they’re not cowards,” Draco replied, keeping his voice cool. “These two would go after Black if he killed their parents. I’m sure yours would be proud to see you hiding.”

He could see the change in Potter’s body language. He tensed, clenched his jaw, and sat up straighter. Draco was certain he had a death grip on his wand. “Harry, no,” Granger said, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Listen to the mudblood,” Draco said with a grin.

Now Weasley jumped up, and another tall redhead made an appearance. “What’s going on?” The Head Boy grabbed his brother and pulled him back down. “You three, go back to the Slytherin table.”

“Fine,” Draco said in the least respectful tone he could. He nodded at Crabbe and Goyle and they turned back to their table.

“Just like your dad, Draco. Too much of a coward to do your own dirty work, so you’re hoping Black does it for you.” It stung, but it was probably fair. He went after Potter’s parents every other week. “At least you’re decent enough to rely on a criminal. You’re dad wasn’t capable enough for something a little girl could do.”

And that was low enough for a few things to happen. The Head Weasel hissed Harry’s name. Crabbe and Goyle took a moment to comprehend was Potter had just said. And Draco lunged at Potter and punched him in the face.

This led to a few more things happening. Draco’s hand erupted in white hot bursts of pain, and he yelped as he pulled his arm back. Potter didn’t make a sound but kicked Draco off of him, and then jumped on him to get in a few punches of his own. Crabbe and Goyle caught on and pulled Potter off of him, Weasley was straining to pull them both back, and the Head Weasel was shouting for them to stop.

Then they were all forcibly pulled apart. From where he was strewn on the floor, Draco could see McGonagall, though he would’ve known it was her when she said, in a booming voice, “What are you doing?”

The Head Weasel explained what happened and Draco pushed himself up and looked around. His hand hurt, his thumb especially, and his ribs hurt from where Potter had punched him. Potter was propped up against the table, a red mark on his cheek and his glasses somewhere on the floor. Granger was pulling up Weasley, who didn’t look hurt, and Crabbe and Goyle got to their feet, also unharmed. Everyone in the Great Hall was looking at them. He could see the other Weasleys standing a ways away, as though prepared to have jumped in, and he could see Pansy and Daphne, standing up to see what trouble Draco had made for himself.

“Detention for all of you!” McGonagall exclaimed. “Ronald, don’t give me that look!”

“Professor!” Granger interjected. McGonagall turned to face her, fury in her eyes, and Granger, taken aback, said, “Ron was trying to pull Crabbe and Goyle off of Harry. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.”

“And we were trying to get Potter off of Draco,” Crabbe said. 

McGonagall pressed her lips together in a tight line. “Very well. If you three were trying to break up the fight, I won’t punish you. But you two,” she said, turning to face Draco and Potter, “will follow me to my office where we will discuss your punishment.”

Draco looked at Potter, who was staring back at him. Conflict brought people together. In some situations, they could unite against the common enemy, the enemy being school authority, and forge an odd bond. But Draco hated Potter for his words and the pain in his chest, so he glared at him, feeling a little less smitten by his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey, college hasn't gotten too rough yet! So have a chapter my lovelies, I was really happy to see that with one short chapter everyone still seemed excited. Feel free to leave a comment, I love to hear what you think! Until next time~


	3. Chapter 3: Five Days

“In the middle of the Great Hall? Potter, I am appalled. Never, in all my years-” Draco tuned out. He could guess the majority of this would be McGonagall harping on Potter for putting Gryffindor house to shame. Besides, he had something better to do, like nurse his aching thumb. Merlin’s sake, how did he break his thumb?

The door opened, and he and Potter both turned to see Professor Snape. “Minerva,” he said, with a slight nod. “I’ll handle Draco’s punishment from here.”

“I was hoping I could speak with you about that.” Professor Snape nodded, and they stepped out of the office. “I should hope I can leave you two alone for five minutes.”

Still holding his right hand, Draco leaned back in his chair and kicked one leg up over the other. Potter was slumped so far back in his seat that he was a few inches shorter than Draco. He was tempted to say something, but wasn’t sure how willing he was to push his luck. Snape was sure to get him out of trouble; he was willing to bet that he’d get away with a day of detention, two days at most.

The door opened again, and they both turned again to look at their professors. “Detention every night this week. One hour of tidying up classrooms. And ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor and Slytherin,” McGonagall said. 

“Quidditch practice!” Potter spluttered, and soon words were spilling out of his mouth. “Professor McGonagall, please, we’ve been practicing everyday, and Oliver will kill me if-”

“Perhaps you should’ve thought about that before you provoked Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said, sending him an oddly gentle glare. “You will also be serving these detentions together. Hopefully you’ll learn how to coexist without resorting to violence.”

“No!” Malfoy said. “I refuse to spend another second with him! He broke my thumb!”

“You broke your thumb?” Harry said, humorous disbelief flooding his voice.

“You broke my thumb!”

“I didn’t do anything to your hand, not my fault you never learned how to make a fist!”

“Enough,” McGonagall said, and they fell silent. “If you two fight during any of these detentions, you’ll be given another one. I suggest you two learn how to get along.”

Potter’s face was red and he was pressing his lips together firm, almost as if he was forcing whatever he was thinking to stay inside. Draco was too fixated on his lips to raise any protest. Finally, Snape said, “Let’s go, Draco.”

He stood up and tried to not noticeably pull his eyes from Potter’s mouth. As he and Snape walked out of McGonagall’s office, he could hear McGonagall resume scolding Potter. “Go see Madame Pomfrey, Draco.”

 

With his thumb repaired, Draco sat in Defense Against the Dark Arts. “Good morning everyone,” Professor Lupin said. Draco could not believe this man got hired to teach. His robes looked older than any Hogwarts student. His hair was graying and long in a messy way, and scars criss crossed his face. He didn’t look rugged, nor did he look scary. He just looked rumpled. Rumpled and sad.

The rest of the Slytherins murmured a greeting in response. Lupin grinned at them, not unkindly, and showed them the dresser he was standing in front of. “For our first lesson, I thought we could do something hands-on.” The dresser jumped and shook, and Draco sat straight-up in his seat. “Can anyone tell me what we have here?”

Lupin picked Blaise, who said, “A boggart.”

“Very good. Do you know what makes boggarts special?”

“Nobody knows what they look like,” Blaise replied. “They change their form to look like your worst fear.”

“Exactly. Five points to Slytherin. So, how do you think we would go about fighting a boggart if it could take the form of your greatest fear?” He looked to the rest of the class expectantly. Tentatively, Daphne raised her hand, and he said, “Yes, Ms. Greengrass?”

“Don’t be afraid?”

“Very close. It’s hard to be fearless. It’s much easier to be amused. The spell we use is Riddikulus, and you must think of something funny. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened in one of the other Defense Against the Dark Arts classes?” How could they have not. Longbottom was a disgrace in every sense of the word, and it was unbelievable that he had dressed up a Snape look-a-like in his grandmother’s clothes.

Seeing amusement in their eyes, Lupin said, “Exactly. Another thing that’s important to note; the boggart can only take one form at a time. Sheer numbers can confuse the boggart, as it will attempt to take multiple shapes at once. That’s how we’ll finish it off. To start us off, everyone line up.”

The Slytherins got into a line, and Draco wasn’t stubborn enough to ignore the nervous excitement they all felt. Even if Lupin looked like he had been living on the streets all his life, he was a few steps up from the moron they had last year.

Nott was first, and a large, black cat sauntered out of the dresser, it’s eyes large and yellow and pinned on him. It was a panther, Draco realized, and it silently moved closer to Nott, its impossibly large mouth opening to reveal many sharp, white teeth. Nott forced out a shaky, “Riddikulus!” and the panther transformed into a small, fluffy kitten. He let out a sigh of relief and the class laughed as Daphne, who was behind him, pushed him out of the way.

The kitten fixed its round eyes on Daphne and shifted into a large hulking beast, covered in thick, gray tufts of fur and patches of bared skin barely concealed by torn shreds of clothes. It was a werewolf, and Draco and a few others were taken back, including Professor Lupin, by the looks of it. Daphne squeaked, “Riddikulus!” and it transformed into a puppy laying on a denim jacket. 

Next was Pansy. The puppy turned into a beautiful woman with impossibly blonde hair, shimmering skin, soft red lips, long lashes, and curves in all the right placed. He heard Crabbe and Goyle gulp behind him. The woman came closer to Pansy, grinning and holding out her arms, but the closer she came the more Draco saw that her teeth were sharp and her hands were clawed. With a steely voice, Pansy said, “Riddikulus,” and the woman’s dress ripped, exposing her bra. The class roared in laughter, and Draco caught Pansy blushing as she moved to the side for his turn.

In about a split second, a series of thoughts ran through his head. He didn’t know what his greatest fear was. Not snakes. Not heights. Probably not spiders. Not vampires. Not werewolves.

The boggart seemed to have figured it out, though. The woman was changing shape again, growing slightly taller, more masculine, more…

More like his dad. Lucius Malfoy was standing in front of him, and he was confused more than all else. He loved his father. He got along quite well with him. 

And then the verbal barrage started. “To think I wasted thirteen years raising such an ungrateful disgrace, an utter disappointment, someone willing to throw the Malfoy bloodline away for trash, because he’s too weak to get over-”

Professor Lupin jumped in front of him, and Pansy and Blaise were at his side. Draco put his head in his arms and curled up as low as he could, more from shame than anything else. He heard Lupin dismiss the class and heard Pansy reassure him that Draco was fine, that they were going to keep an eye on him, that they should really get going now.

Then he found himself being led, or dragged, mostly, back to the common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Sorry this took a hot second, but here's another chapter. Please tell me what you think, and I hope I'll be back soon.


	4. Chapter 4: Dawn of the First... Uh, Night?

Together they half carried Draco out of the classroom. “Should we take him to Madam Pomfrey?” Blaise asked, supporting most of Draco’s weight. Draco found himself blushing. It was a short-lived crush, but Blaise was aggressively Slytherin and handsome in a put-together way as opposed to Potter’s I-rolled-out-of-a-dumpster-but-it’s-kind-of-working way. 

“No, let’s bring him back to the common room. I think he’d rather be alone.”

“Alright.”

“I can walk there on my own,” Draco said. “Pansy, you need to get to Arithmancy.”

“I’ve got time,” Pansy replied. “Besides, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“My dad’s not abusive,” Draco said, pushing himself away from them. “I’m not having a flashback or something. It was stupid, just like the siren or whatever the hell you saw.”

Pansy glared and turned as dramatically as she could, her short, black hair swaying as she walked away. “Nice,” Blaise said. “You pissed off your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my bloody girlfriend,” Draco scowled, starting to walk back to the common room. To his dismay, Blaise followed. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

“Not yet.”

Draco didn’t bother to look back at Blaise as they walked down to the dungeons, and Blaise made no attempt to spark up a conversation. Draco wished Crabbe and Goyle had tried to drag him away instead, so he could be around people who wouldn’t try to figure out why his father was evidently his greatest fear.

Well.

No. Blaise wasn’t asking questions. He seemed content to just follow Draco, almost as if he was playing the part of Crabbe and Goyle. Truth be told, Draco hardly talked to any of the other Slytherins in his year. Crabbe and Goyle were his go-to friends because they were hopeless without anyone smarter to lead them around, and Pansy was a recent addition. Generally, the other Slytherins seemed scared of the Malfoy association with You-Know-Who. Having Blaise around would be much appreciated.

“Did you get detention for fighting Potter?” Blaise asked. 

“Yeah.” Draco had almost forgotten about that. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been unusually eventful. “Joint detention or something; we have to serve it together and get along or else we’ll keep getting more.”

“That sucks. Professor Snape couldn’t get you out of it?”

“Nope. McGonagall already assigned the detention by then.”

Blaise hummed an acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else. They were at the door to the common room. Draco turned to face Blaise. “Thanks for walking me back, I guess.”

“No problem.” Blaise glanced down both ends of the hallway, and, seeing nobody, leaned closer to Draco and said, quietly, “I knew the look on your dad’s face. I’ve seen it on… Enough people. If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

Draco did his best to not stare back at him, mouth agape. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Blaise nodded and pulled back, and Draco watched as he made his way to arithmancy. He mulled over just how outlandish that was. There was a reason Slytherins were characterized by snakes, and it wasn’t just for their founder’s Parselmouth status. They were a group that desired success no matter the cost, and knew that exposing themselves could lead to their downfall. For Blaise to trust Draco with a history of abuse, if that was what he was implying…

Draco grimaced and got into the common room. The misunderstanding hung heavy over his head. He wouldn’t run and tell, obviously, but he felt dirty being privy to information because Blaise thought he was in a similar position. 

He didn’t dwell on it for long, though. He hadn’t eaten yet, and he should grab a meal before Herbology.

 

McGonagall had sent an owl to Draco with the time and location of his detention (her classroom at eight). He wound up at her classroom at almost the exact same time as Potter, and they exchanged less than friendly looks. McGonagall saw them walk, in shooting each other death glares, and said, “I hope you both act better than that. You’ll be transfiguring these items back to their original states.” She pulled out a bin full of needles and buttons. “The needles were matchsticks and the buttons were beetles. Do be careful not to squish the beetles.”

She handed the box to Potter, who did not look excited for the menial task ahead of him. Them. Ahead of them. 

They sat down, leaving a chair in between them, and Potter poured the buttons and needles gently onto the table. Then he started picking up the buttons and putting them back in the box.

“I’ll do the buttons, thank you very much,” Draco said, grabbing some of the buttons. “I don’t trust you enough to not squash them.”

He glared at him. “Be my guest. Put them back in the box before you transfigure them so they don’t escape.”

“Put them back in the box before you transfigure them so they don’t escape,” Draco mimicked as childishly as he possibly could. “Some of us aren’t idiots, Potter.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Draco almost said something snappy and witty in response, but McGonagall coughed and gave them both a very pointed look. “Just… Take care of the needles.”

“Yeah. Right.” They worked in silence. Draco was loathe to admit it, but the newly transfigured beetles well contained in the box, thought they crawled around and over each other. Potter had the needles spread out on the table as he transfigured them back into matchsticks. Draco kept his eyes glued to the buttons. He was unbearably close to Potter. He could see the small flecks of different shades of green in his eyes, could see how his messy hair fell over his old, breaking glasses, how he pursed his lips as he focused-

“How’s the hand?” he asked.

Taken aback, Draco replied, “Fine. Fixed, now.”

“Good. I didn’t break it. You did. How-” he stopped himself, sighed, then turned to face Draco. “I don’t like you, but this is awkward. Truce?”

“Until our detentions are over,” Draco agreed, his heart threatening to jump out of his throat and proclaim, “HARRY POTTER I LOVE HARRY POTTER PLEASE KISS ME HARRY POTTER.”

“Okay. How do you make a fist?” Draco set down his wand and showed him. “See, you can’t keep your thumb inside your fist, that’s how you break it. You keep it outside of your fist.”

Draco looked down at his fist and moved his thumb accordingly. “Do you get into a lot of Muggle scuffles?”

“I’d rather not get in more trouble because you broke a bone.”

Draco tried his best to not visibly deflate. “Well. Thank you. I appreciate.”

He focused his attention once more on the few buttons he had left. Potter had finished the needles and was putting the matchsticks in the box. Finished, Draco picked up the box and brought it up to McGonagall’s desk. “We finished, Professor.”

She looked in the box and gave them both a small, sincere smile. “That was faster than I expected. I hope you’ve realized it isn’t so hard to not be at each other’s throats all the time?” They both murmured an agreement. “Very good. You’re both dismissed. I’ll will send you the details of your next detention tomorrow.”

They parted ways without a word. Draco had assumed the truce would be for the duration of the detentions. Still, a small part of him was disappointed. Whatever. It wasn’t as if they’d come out of these detentions as friends.

He got back to the Slytherin common room. It hadn’t even been an hour, so it was hardly late, but Pansy was nowhere to be found.

“Greengrass.” Daphne looked up. “Do you know where Pansy is?”

“She said she was turning in early.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Frowning, Draco returned to his own room, where he was alone. And so it appeared he was back to only Crabbe and Goyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! I just got a job so if chapters are wayyyy more sporadic after this... that's why.


	5. Things We Hear

The day flew by in a haze of disappointment and pain. Transfiguration was fine, and he got through Potions by ignoring Potter completely, even though Crabbe and Goyle couldn’t quite understand why. Pansy ignored him.

He knew why she was ignoring him; he wasn’t an idiot. He just didn’t know how he could apologize. Apologizing would mean opening up about his fear, which would mean opening up about everything else he had been feeling. He couldn’t admit he liked Potter to himself, much less anyone else.

He was working on a Charms essay when Blaise sat across from him. “Are you going to talk to Pansy?” he whispered, conscious of Madam Pince lurking a few shelves down.

“I’m busy.”

“She’s worried about you, but she’s too proud to say it.”

“What do you care?”

“Everyone’s already against the Slytherin house. We don’t have to be against each other,” he said, swiping Draco’s essay from beneath his quill. “It’d be worth it to talk befriend the Slytherins, then, and not just stick with your two lackeys.”

“Crabbe and Goyle are my friends,” Draco huffed, but Blaise didn’t buy it. “Look, I’ll talk to her, okay? But everyone else chose to ignore me just because of my father. Everyone fears the Malfoy name.”

“It’s an imposing name,” Blaise said. “Remember, Draco, just because we supported the movement doesn’t mean most of our parents didn’t also fear it. I’m willing to bet your father felt the same. Him being in the inner circle intimidates plenty of us.”

“Talking about my father because you don’t know yours?”

Blaise stared at him, then, slowly, ripped his essay in half. “I knew my father. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Try to be less of a dick.”

Draco glowered at him. In two hours, he would find himself with Potter in Lupin’s room, where they would be helping him clean out tanks and whatnot. Draco was incredibly tired. It had only been one day, but being alone with Potter was a painful experience. He was annoying and handsome and too much to bear. And seeing Lupin again might open up questions about his boggart.

His stomach growled, and he groaned and put his head into his arms. He had plenty of time to get dinner before his detention, but that would mean running into Pansy, and though he had said he would try talking to her he was far from ready for it. 

Lifting his head up, he pressed his wand against his ripped essay, said, “Reparo,” and continued writing. He would just see if the House Elves would bring him food back in the common room after his detention.

 

He heard voices inside of Lupin’s classroom. Draco stopped and looked around the hallway. There was no sign of Potter, despite their detention starting now. Cautiously, Draco pressed his ear against the door. He could hear Lupin talking.

“I think he could use a friend, is all, and I think you’re kind.”

“He has friends! You’ve seen the two goons that follow him around everywhere.” What was Potter doing there? Why was Lupin talking about him?

“You know there’s a difference between goons and friends, Harry. Would you compare Ron and Hermione to Vincent and Gregory?”

There wasn’t a hint of hesitation as Potter replied, “No.”

“Exactly.” There was silence and Draco wondered if he should come in, but then he heard Lupin continue. “Alright, you don’t have to be his friend. Just try to be nicer to him. Or, at the very least, don’t get into fist fights in the middle of the Great Hall.” 

Draco felt himself tense up, and decided he had quite enough of snooping around. He took a few steps back, walked normally toward the door, and knocked. Lupin answered. He smiled. “Good evening, Draco. Harry and I have been waiting.”

Lupin turned to look at Potter, who was looking down at the ground with a slight blush on his face. “Hey,” he muttered.

“Hi.”

Seeing that there would be no conversation continuing between the two, Lupin said, “Right, well, the grindylow tanks need cleaning. I’ve already removed them, so the both of you will be able to handle it. Oh, and you can’t use magic. You’ll have to do it by hand.”

Four tanks sat on the table in front of them. “I’ll take those two, you take the other ones?”

“Works with me,” Draco replied. He took off his robes and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Scowling, he picked up a sponge and a bucket. With a grimace on his face, he started scrubbing at the grime that had accumulated on the sides of the tank. 

“I think I already know the answer to this, but have you ever cleaned anything in your life?” Potter was scrubbing at a large splotch inside one of his tanks.

“No, actually. See, in wizarding households, we don’t stoop to do Muggle work. We consider it quite beneath us.”

“Shocking,” Potter replied. “Well, actually scrub the tank instead of gliding over it. You’re not doing anything, and I don’t want to end up cleaning all of these.”

Draco rolled his eyes but did scrub harder at the splotches on the tanks. By the time he had finished his first tank, Potter had finished both of his. “A little help?”

“I already helped. I did half the work. It’s not my fault you’ve never lifted a finger in your whole life.”

Draco glared at him. “Like precious Potter ever had to lift a finger in his whole life.”

“You’re mixing us up.”

“Boys,” Lupin interjected in a warning tone. “It might help to talk instead of trying to insult each other.” Then he gave Potter a pointed look that was probably supposed to be discreet. 

“Yes, Professor,” they said. Draco turned his attention back to the tank.

“Hey, um. Sorry.” Draco looked up to make sure Potter had indeed said something, and he was lounging back in one of the seats, looking away from Draco. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I guess I am doing an awful job at this.”

Potter huffed, looked up, and said, “I’ll help.”

Half of Draco was rejoicing. Yes! Less manual labor! The other half was freaking the fuck out. Harry was now standing next to him, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His arms were slightly defined in combination of how thin and active he was. He smelled like the soap they had been using and, faintly, of sweat, but not in an overpowering, unpleasant way. 

Draco was almost certain he dissociated and missed the next ten minutes as Harry helped him clean the tank. Before he realized it, they had put away the sponges, vanished the water in the buckets, and dried the tanks.

“Perfect. Harry, you can go. Draco, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes.”

Automatically, Draco looked to Potter, who shrugged and left without a word. Draco swallowed and said, “What’s the matter, Professor?”

Lupin smiled. “I don’t want to ask about the boggart, if that’s what you’re worried about. I understand the nuances of fear. I certainly don’t appreciate people asking about mine.” Lupin walked behind his desk and sat down, motioning for Draco to do the same. Draco pulled up one of more comfortable looking chairs and sat.

He almost asked what Lupin’s boggart was, for he hadn’t seen it in the commotion of his last class, but he stopped himself. “What is it, then?” 

Lupin examined him, and Draco pulled back into his chair. “I know that Hogwarts can be tough. Sometimes, you find friends and your years here are easy. Sometimes, you don’t. It can be incredibly lonely here.” Lupin was somewhere else, and Draco took this moment to search his face. The lines on his face and the gray in his hair seemed so much more prominent than usually; generally, he only looked tired. Now, though, he looked old despite his age.

Draco wondered what Lupin’s time at Hogwarts had been like. Did he see Potter and admire him for the adoration he received? Did it make him remember his own time in the wide, empty halls, sitting alone in his common room as he tuned in and out of the conversations of people around him, never truly knowing how he could come in or if he was wanted. Or had he been like Potter, and had merely glanced over the lonelier kids, only trying to relate to Draco now out of some past guilt? 

“I’m fine, sir, thank you.” He was uncomfortable and, more importantly, quite hungry.

“I know you aren’t fond of Harry. And I understand the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry; that was certainly just as prominent when I was a student. I think you two have more in common than you think, though. I remember petty feuds from my past, and I wonder if nipping them in the bud like this would’ve been more beneficial.”

And he was lost again. “Yes, sir. May I go back to my room?”

“Yes, Draco. Thank you for cleaning up the tanks. I won’t bother you about this anymore.” He gave one last smile, and Draco left. 

He couldn’t, under any circumstances, befriend Potter. That was a can of worms best left unopened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O shit gays y'all dig this huh. Thank you so much for reading and I hope this update didn't take too long. I just got a job and I start on Monday so let's see how frequent updates are gonna be? That being said, I'm super good on homework right now and spring break is SO CLOSE. Until next time~


	6. Pansy Returns

“Wake up.”

Draco did, not so much from the whispered words, but from the fact that he was being shaken by the shoulders. He opened his eyes, sore from how early it was, to see Pansy. “How’d you get in here?” The Slytherin common room was in the dungeons with windows that showed the lake, so they didn’t get much natural light. However, it was pitch black in the water. “What time is it?”

“Four. I couldn’t sleep. I’m too upset.”

He pushed himself up and sat back, patting his bed for her to sit next to him. Everyone else was still sleeping. Nott was snoring softly. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring not so softly. “I thought I’d be the last person you’d talk to. I… I was going to find you today and apologize. I’m sorry I-”

“I don’t give a shit, Draco.”

“Oh. Okay. So… What exactly?”

“I got a letter from my parents.” She handed Draco a sheet of paper, and Draco squinted at it before grabbing his wand and saying Lumos. “I was pissed at you. You just got bounced down a few pegs, though.”

Pansy,

Your mother and I have heard some concerning rumors from the Greengrass family originating from your friend’s sister, Astoria. Her mother claims that Astoria told her you and Daphne have kissed. I shouldn’t have to tell you how problematic this is, my dear. You will grow up to marry a nice pureblood. I do not believe I have to remind you that pureblood will be male. It is best if you stop entertaining these feelings you think you have, and pursue boys your age; I know you and Draco are friends, perhaps him? You could do far worse than a Malfoy, my dear. You won’t be punished for this, but I can’t say the same for future instances if there are any.

With love, Mother and Father

Draco folded the letter back up and handed it to Pansy. He didn’t know what to say. Neither did Pansy, as she was staring wide-eyed at him in frightened anticipation. “When did you get this?”

“Last night.”

“Have you told anyone?”

“You’re the first.”

“Why haven’t you told any of your girl friends. Uh, your friends that are girls, I mean.”

“You read the letter. Daphne ratted me out. All the others would probably do the same.”

Draco bit his lip. Daphne had always seemed genuinely nice; while he could imagine other girls Pansy talked to immediately revealing her secrets, he felt Daphne was better than that. “I don’t think she did this intentionally. She probably got a letter from her parents, too. It’d be a good bonding moment.” Pansy shrugged, turning away from Draco and instead looking in the general direction of Crabbe. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Kiss Daphne.”

For a few seconds Pansy didn’t reply, and Draco worried he had been too quiet. Then she asked, “Does it matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does it matter if I kissed Daphne? And don’t say ‘of course’ because you think it was a one-time thing. What if I only ever kissed girls? What if I only wanted to kiss girls and the thought of being with a boy disgusts me? What if my parents wanting me to settle down with a man repulses me and makes me want to run away? What if that was the case? Would it matter?”

Tears had formed in the corners of her eyes, and her voice had slowly raised during her quick monologue until she was nearly yelling. “Pansy, quiet down before you wake everyone up by saying you’re queer!”

Pansy shot up and slapped him, and they both froze. The sound seemed deafening, and they held their breath as they expected someone to wake up. But all that happened was Blaise shifting under his blanket, and they both sighed.

“Of course it doesn’t matter,” Draco said, and Pansy sat down. “I don’t think of you any differently. Besides, you could do a lot worse than Daphne.” He gave her a reassuring smile, and he could see her tension melt away, if only a bit. 

“She doesn’t feel the same. I just wanted to test it, and she’s one of my closest friends, so I convinced her to kiss me. She’s boy crazy, she just thinks it was a silly thing we did.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I guess I don’t feel that way towards her, either. I have feelings for someone else, I think.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Draco looked to the window, where he could see sunlight starting to fade in from above the lake. “I want to go back to sleep, if you don’t mind.”

“You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”

 

Draco did fall back asleep once Pansy had left, but it had been a while after, and he only ended up catching a quick extra thirty minutes. He and Pansy were groggy the whole day, and he was grateful Hagrid had cowered so much to his father to reduce lessons to caring to flobberworms. He noticed the occasional glances Potter would take toward him; he figured this was his way of making sure he didn’t fake anymore injuries.

Ancient Runes was considerably more painful as the runes melted into each other before his eyes and Granger seemed to be making an effort to be more obnoxious than usual. Draco was about to knock himself out with his textbook by the time they were let out of class. He sat with Pansy at meals and felt happy to see her again; though it had only been a bit more than a day, he didn’t appreciate the reminder that she was his only friend. 

The note from McGonagall requested him at her office at eight again. He said goodbye to Pansy, grinned when he saw how relieved Blaise felt, and left for the classroom. Potter was waiting at a desk, two boxes in front of him.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said. “I heard your detention with Professor Lupin went well yesterday. I hope you can continue that streak. Tonight will be the same as Monday night. Please behave.”

Draco sat next to Potter and took the box of buttons. “I can handle a few beetles, you know,” Potter said.

Draco yawned, then said, “Right. Sorry. Habit, I guess. You can handle the beetles this time, I’ll do the matchsticks.”

“I didn’t expect you to be… Nice? Don’t worry about it, we don’t have to switch.”

“You’re such a drama queen, Potter,” Draco replied. 

They transfigured the items back to their original forms for a few minutes in silence before Potter asked, “You seemed tired today.”

Part of Draco wanted to bite back. However, he replied honestly. “I had to wake up early this morning. Four in the morning early.”

“Why?”

Draco frowned. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fine.”

“Not in a rude way. In an honest, I made a promise way. I can’t tell you. All that matters is I was up at four and I can’t wait to get back to bed.”

“Alright then.” Potter finished the matchsticks and turned to help Draco. “Not used to waking up at four?”

“Is anyone?” Draco snorted. 

Potter shrugged. “I always woke up whenever anyone went downstairs. Sometimes my uncle would have to leave early for work.”

“Well that’s awful. Light sleeper or small house?”

“Well, I’m not a light sleeper, but I’m sure it’s a small house compared to whatever manor you live in.”

“I’m proud I live in a manor, thank you very much.”

“We all know.”

“Well, it’s better than living in a hovel like your hoard of weasel friends.”

Potter clenched his draw and pocketed his wand, the beetles now restored to their original form. “Stop insulting my friends, Malfoy. I don’t care how many detentions we get.”

“Okay, fine, jeez.” Draco picked up the box and looked away. “I’m sorry, okay? I am. It’ll stop today.”

“Okay. Good.”

They brought the boxes back to McGonagall and she dismissed them, pleased that they had not tried to kill each other for the third time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O fuck y'all. So basically whenever I get an email about kudos on this story I'm like "??" but I get so happy that you guys like it. Leave a comment babes, I'd love to hear what you think. Until next time~


	7. Chapter 7: What We Pay Attention To

Draco was in the common room doing homework. Classes were wonderful again with Pansy talking to him, and Blaise was slowly inserting himself into their friendship. It was probably desperation, but the second day of this happening made Draco feel like he was invincible. He was happy.

“Can we talk somewhere private?” Draco looked up from his work to see Pansy. 

“I wanted to get my work done before detention.”

“It’ll be quick.” Draco closed his books and followed Pansy out of the common room and into an empty hallway. Few people were wandering the halls as classes were still in session. “I told you my secret, now you tell me yours.”

“What?”

 

Pansy rolled her eyes and leaned closer to Draco. “Listen. We’re the same.”

“What?” Then it clicked, and Draco realized that Pansy knew exactly what he was. Which was fine. She was queer, she would know more than anyone how sensitive his situation was. But the words were stuck in his throat, and he could only say, “You’re wrong.”

“Bullshit,” she hissed as they heard footsteps down the hall. “I noticed how you used to look at Blaise, and I know how you feel about Potter. If I came out to you, you have to do the same for me.”

“I’m not like you!”

They both looked around. They were still alone, and they were whisper-yelling at each other so as to avoid detection. “You don’t have to lie to me, but don’t you dare lie to yourself. If we can’t rely on each other, then who the else can we rely on?”

Pansy turned and walked away. “Are you going to still talk to me?”

She huffed and faced him to say, “Yes. And you’re going to admit it.”

Draco returned to the common room in a much more annoyed mood than when he left. Pansy hadn’t returned and he tried to focus again on his homework. Their detention would be with Hagrid tonight, and Draco was not looking forward to his return to the Forbidden Forest. If it wasn’t for how embarrassing the situation was, he would’ve written his father about the excessive punishments used by the school.

Filch walked Potter and him down to Hagrid’s hut, grumbling the whole way to remind them how worthless he found them. The giant oaf- though, if he was going to be good on his promise to Potter, he might as well extend polite thoughts toward his favorite professor- opened the door and grinned. 

“Harry! And Malfoy, I’ve been expecting you two. I can take them from here, Filch.” Filch seemed more than happy to leave as Hagrid came out of his hut. “Right then, you won’t be doing much, we aren’t going into the forest this time. We’ll just be on the edge of it, you’ll be helping me with the thestrals.”

“The what?” Draco asked. He glanced at Potter who look just as confused. 

“So neither of you have seen them? That’s good. They bring the carriages to Hogwarts from the train. I’ve got the only trained herd.” 

Draco sighed, not trusting the proud puff of Hagrid’s chest. “What do we have to do?” Potter asked.

“I’ll whistle for them, and you two just help me feed them.”

“What do they eat?” 

“Raw meat!” Draco let out a soft laugh and put his head in his hands. “They’re invisible, so just toss the food onto the ground a bit away from each other. They shouldn’t fight anyway, but I wouldn’t want either of you to get in the middle of one.” Hagrid picked up a bucket full of raw meat and set it down in front of him and Potter. Then he turned and whistled.

“There they are,” Hagrid said, and he tossed a piece of meat into the grass. It hit the ground then was lifted into the air, and bits of it began to disappear.

Draco stared in detached disgust as Hagrid left them to tend to the invisible creatures. Potter reached into the bucket and threw a piece. “Are you going to help?” he asked.

“I refuse.”

Potter grabbed Draco’s hand and shoved it into the bucket despite Draco’s protests. He pressed Draco’s hand into a fist around one of the pieces of meat, and he gagged as he felt it squish in between his fingers. Potter let go and Draco shrieked, pulled his hand out of the bucket, and threw the meat away. 

“If you ever touch me again-” Draco began to shout, but he noticed that Potter was grinning, his handsome green eyes sparkling. “What?”

“It was funny.”

“Was not!”

Potter tossed another piece of meat. “Are you going to keep complaining, or do I have to keep forcing you to help?”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat. It was nice to feel Harry’s hand around his, and he wanted more. “I’m perfectly fine on my own, thank you.”

They threw the rest of the meat onto the field, and Hagrid continued to walk around to the bits of floating meat, occasionally reaching out to pet the invisible creatures. It was the quickest detention they had so far, but also the most disgusting. Potter told Hagrid they had used all of the meat, and he dismissed them.

Draco looked at his slimy hands in disgust before disappearing the remains of meat and juices. He turned to Potter and did the same. “What was that for?”

“It’s called being nice.”

He looked down at his now clean hands and arms, and said, “Thanks.”

Draco looked down to hide his blush. “Don’t mention it.”

They walked back to Hogwarts together. They were probably only out for a half hour so Filch wasn’t too upset to be letting them back inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Last one,” Potter said with a small smile, and Draco had the sudden, strongest urge to pull him close and kiss him. 

“Yeah. Then we never have to hang out again.”

Potter didn’t immediately reply, and Draco rubbed his neck in a rare show of self-consciousness. “See you, then.”

“Yeah, bye.”

He watched Potter walk away and felt a sudden conviction. He rushed to the common room and penned a quick letter, which he sent to Pansy. He could no longer keep this to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, the support this story has been receiving means so much to me. I'm glad you guys are digging it. I hope to update again soon, but college and work and bleh. Y'all know. Until next time~


	8. Chapter 8: A Private Moment

“So basically, every time I look at him I feel kind of sick but in a good way and I really want to kiss him.”

This was how Draco finished his lengthy explanation of everything he had been feeling for the past few months. Pansy listened with a blank face until he flopped over onto the couch, alone in the common room in the early hours of the morning. She cracked a smile and said, “You fell hard.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Pansy stood up and came over to him to gently pet his hair. “It’ll be okay. It might go away now that you can talk about it.”

“Yeah.”

“And one more detention.”

“Thank Merlin.”

The day flew by. Pansy was kind enough to refrain from teasing him whenever Potter was near, and Draco found himself not too worried that she knew his darkest secret. They were normal again.

Their detention that night would be overseen by Filch, and his stomach dropped. He wasn’t sure what would be worse; the manual labor or the nonstop insults that would come their way. At eight they met in the trophy room, where Filch told them they would be polishing the trophies and plaques. All of them. No magic. 

Potter took off his robes and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Draco tore his eyes away from the light brown skin and tried not to imagine being held by him. He did the same and brushed his hair back with his hand, not excited for the upcoming task.

A ladder had been set up so they could reach the awards higher up on the shelves and walls. “I’ll handle those ones if you do the bottom,” Potter said, running his hand through his hair. Merlin, Draco wanted to run his fingers through it.

“Works with me.”

“Don’t leave all of it for me.”

“I’m capable, Potter,” Draco sneered, and Potter rolled his eyes with a slight grin on his face. They set to work, and it was just as boring as Draco feared it would be. Soon enough, his arms and back were burning with exertion, and he kept glancing up at Potter to see if he was feeling the same. Filch was muttering about how they deserved more traditional punishment; at least, that’s what Draco assumed. He had Filch blocked out since second year. 

Draco jumped as a loud crash sounded through the hall. “Stay here,” Filch growled, and Draco and Potter looked at each other before watching him limp out of the room. 

“You should go back to your common room. What if it’s Sirius Black?” Draco asked.

Potter climbed down the ladder and said, “I don’t run away from a fight!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Draco hissed, doing his best to not yell. “We’re two underage wizards and he’s literally blown people up!”

They were face to face, and Draco was conscious of the fact Potter had grown since they first met, and he now had an inch over Draco. “You’re just scared.”

“I’m never scared!” 

“Then stop acting like it!”

They were being incredibly stupid. “Fine! We stay here then!”

Draco felt like he was shaking. They were still facing each other, mere inches apart. All he could think about was Sirius Black himself, lanky and grimy with madness in his eyes, bursting through the doors. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s cold in here!” They were both sweating. 

Potter clenched his jaw and said, quietly, “You can leave. I won’t force you to stay here.”

“And leave you alone? Have your death on my conscious? You think I would want everyone after me because I left their handsome hero Harry Potter to be brutally murdered by a psychopa-”

Potter had grabbed the front of his shirt, and Draco was prepared to be punched or thrown or anything, really.

But he blanked when Harry kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing's first: my tumblr is unprofessionalartist if anyone wants to find and talk to me there :3   
> Second: This will most certainly be finished with a part 2. I do not know when that will be posted, but it will be sooner than the month long hiatus I put y'all through (I'm so sorry college and work and life, you know?)  
> Third: I hope you guys enjoyed. I am so grateful for the support you guys gave me. Until next time~

**Author's Note:**

> Oopsie whoopsie someone wanted to write gay Harry Potter fanfiction. Smash that like button and bookmark this bad boy because college is rough and I don't have a regular update schedule (but I do have five more chapters already written ;D). Until next time~


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